Vacation
by Mr. GOP 88
Summary: Oneshot. Held hostage, our hero reflects on a possibility with our heroine, if he gets out alive.


_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Don't worry, I'm not abandoning __Icons__, I've just hit some writers block on it. So, I figured I would write this one-shot to try and jump-start the creative juices. Hope you like it. As always, read and review if you so choose. Note; the text in italics below are a recap of prior events._

**Vacation**

"Drop the gun or else."

A cold, round piece of metal is pressed up against the back of my neck, making the hair around it stand on end. It's hopeless, I do what he orders. Trapped.

"You say one word and it's over. I'll blow your head clear off and that bullet-proof vest of yours won't do you a damn thing."

The gun is still right on my neck. On the other side of it, a ruthless killer. This isn't the first time I've gotten myself into this kind of situation, and it probably won't be the last. It's something of an occupational hazard.

"Let's get movin." Our destination is unknown once we get out of the building. His intention, I have a grim but clear idea of what that is. He can't be dragging around a cop for too long without attracting suspicion, and he doesn't want to have any witnesses. Unfortunately, there is a pretty easy way for him to deal with that problem.

In this case it's bitterly ironic how fast fate changes. Yesterday, we had finished a big case and I was on my way to dinner with Stella. It was a comfortable, relaxing meal, the type only the best of friends can have.

"_Come on Mac" she gently urges me to join her. "When was the last time we had a nice dinner? Don't count Chinese or pizza in the Lab."_

_I find her smile impossible to resist. "Alright Stella, you win."_

"Start movin" he shoves my shoulder for emphasis. We start walking. The sound of my footsteps echoes throughout the long corridor. So do his. It's strangely quiet though. We head out the back door. The day is warm and sunny with a cool breeze, one of the nicer days in New York this time of year. Doesn't seem like the kind of day to have a gun at the back of your neck. Seems like it should at least be cloudy or colder or more grim in some way. It's weird; I could be dead in mere moments and instead of my life flashing before my eyes or thinking about life in a deep or philosophical way, I'm wondering about the weather.

"_It's just one guy and we've done this countless times. Nothing to worry about Stella."_ I tried to reassure her while we were gearing up to go in and get the guy with the gun against my neck. I was a little nervous, I always am before we do this, but I tried to shelve it at least for her.

"_Our suspect is armed and should be approached with extreme caution. Stay on your toes and let's get him."_ That's what I told everyone right before we went in. If I manage to get out of this situation, they are going to give me hell. I should have been more alert. I should have looked closer in the shadows. But I wasn't more alert and I didn't look close enough, so now I have a gun pressed against the back of my neck.

"_When was the last time you went on vacation?" I ask her at dinner. _

_She has that smile again "I could ask you that same question Mac. You have, what, eight weeks of vacation saved up?"_

_ "Only six." I return her smile with own of my own. It has been a very long time since I have enjoyed an evening so much._

"I told you to keep movin cop." He puts pressure on the gun and pushes it further into my neck. I grunt in pain at his action.

_ "Where could we go for a couple of weeks?" She grins mischievously._

_ "Florida." I deadpan. _

_She laughs. "A simple trip or all out?"_

_ "We'd go all out. First-class flight, five star suite on the beach, __Dom Pérignon champagne, the best wine,__ the works. "_

_ She laughs again. "Sounds good to me."_

_ "I thought it would."_

"Kneel, cross your ankles, and put your hands on your head. Don't do anything stupid and this will be a lot easier for everyone."

I have no choice but to comply. For the first time, I don't feel the cold barrel of the gun up against my neck. Beads of sweat are coming down from my forehead and I feel it starting to build up a bit on my chest and under my arms. I won't lie; I'm scared. Only an idiot wouldn't be. Whatever adrenaline I've been running on has long since gone.

I decide to brave talking. "What happens now?" I brace myself to hear the sound of a bullet leaving the gun and waiting for that to be the last thing I know on this earth. Instead, the end of the gun is once again being pushed up against the back of my neck.

"What do you think?" He hisses. "And what did I say about talking? One more word out of you and this will end right now."

_"What will we do in Florida?" She asks me playfully._

_ "Everything. Snorkeling, long walks on the beach at sunset. Tanning in the warm Florida sun. Swimming in the pool or just relaxing in the Jacuzzi. Enjoying what it's like to be warm this time of year."_

_ "You didn't say anything about a Jacuzzi."_

_ "If we are going all out, we might as well go all out."_

_ "I don't know Mac. Snorkeling, tanning, swimming, sounds like a lot of stuff to do."_

_ "There is always option two."_

_ "What's that?"_

_ "We stay in bed until noon and do nothing until 3:00 in the afternoon."_

_ She keeps laughing._

"You know, I never touched that girl. I was framed and you bastards fell for it" he tells me as both a protest of his innocence and an accusation at the Lab.

I'm not going to risk talking. Anything I say will probably just infuriate him further and he doesn't want me speaking anyways.

"If you cops had just left me alone, this wouldn't be happening. I wouldn't have to kill you. So really, you brought this on yourself cop. Don't blame me."

_ "I like this plan Mac."_

_ "So do I."_

_ "We should do it."_

_ "Ask me about it tomorrow when I haven't had three glasses of wine."_

_ "I'll hold you to it. Give me an answer tomorrow or I'll hunt you down Mac Taylor."_

_ This time she has me laughing._

I remember thinking when I woke up this morning that it had been a longtime since I actually relaxed for an evening. I had even gotten a full night of sleep without being haunted by dreams. Maybe things could change.

That was then, just a few hours ago. A full night of sleep. A great dinner with my best friend. Mischievous plans about a vacation in paradise.

Now I'm kneeling in the middle of an alley, sweating under my shirts and vest. The only things cold are my feet going numb and the end of a gun barrel pressed into the back of my neck. My time limited to whenever the sonofabitch with the gun gets bored and decides to end this. He's added pressure from the gun on my neck, like he is tightening his grip on the gun, getting ready to fire.

The sounds of footsteps find their way into my ears. The gun is still pressed into the back of my neck so it isn't him.

"NYPD! Let him go and drop the gun!" A familiar command given by another old friend.

"Don't come any closer or he dies!" The shout from my captor rings in my ears.

"Just drop the gun and no one has to get hurt!" Another voice that I know well; my would-be travel companion to the South.

"Sorry lady, but I'm not that stupid."

"We checked out your story; you were right, the evidence came back to someone else!"

"I told you I was innocent!"

"We won't charge you with murder all you have to do is just drop the gun and come peacefully."

The cold barrel is still against my neck. He must have decided that having a cop as a captive is better than being the captive of the cops.

"Damn it. I'm not going back to prison." He says resolutely.

"Don't do anything crazy. Maybe we can work something out."

"Sorry lady it isn't going to work out. We are all going to be screwed out of this."

He's made his decision. Damn. I bet Florida is nice this time of year. Guess I'll never know.

A shot rings out. Sorry Stella, no trip for me.

Except it isn't me who has a bullet tearing through them, ripping apart flesh, bone and tissue. It's my captor. The cold of the gun barrel on the back of my neck is replaced by hot blood that is gushing out of him ending up all over me. Blood mixes with sweat on my face and clothes. I hurriedly scramble to my feet and turn around.

"Mac!" They run towards me. Flack is faster than the rest of them. "God Mac, are you alright?"

"Fine." I turn to Stella and whisper to her.

"Whenever you're ready, I'll book the tickets."

"To where?"

"Florida. I need a vacation."

_I hope you all enjoyed my second one-shot. Comments good and bad, I'll take them all. _


End file.
